


A Broken Carbon Copy

by nagi_schwarz



Series: Read My Lips [49]
Category: Stargate Atlantis, Stargate SG-1
Genre: AU, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-21
Updated: 2016-04-21
Packaged: 2018-06-04 09:45:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6652915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nagi_schwarz/pseuds/nagi_schwarz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the <a class="i-ljuser-profile" href="http://comment-fic.livejournal.com/profile"><img class="i-ljuser-userhead"/></a><a class="i-ljuser-username" href="http://comment-fic.livejournal.com/">comment_fic</a> prompt: "Stargate SG1, Clone!Jack +/ Any, The SGC already has one Jack O'Neill, but his clone will prove that he's not just a disposable spare." Tag to SGA 5x20 Enemy at the Gates.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Broken Carbon Copy

Richard blinked. “I’m sorry, Colonel Carter, come again?”

“General O’Neill wants John Sheppard to operate the Ancient Weapons platform here on Earth,” Carter said.

Sheppard had an amazing gene expression, that much was true, and he was good at piloting the jumpers, but the thought of sending him into battle, pinning the entirety of Earth on him, was incredulous. Richard wondered how Weir had even come to the decision to have John along on the expedition. He was a capable scientist, and his ability to help wrangle McKay when he was at his worst was incredibly helpful, but he was no soldier, reports of his helping Major Lorne fight off the Genii during the first year of the expedition aside.

“I need Dr. Sheppard to fly Atlantis back to Earth,” Richard said.

“According to my records, Dr. Beckett is perfectly capable of flying the city back to Earth.” Carter sounded harried.

“I cannot have my Chief Medical Officer exhausted from flying the city all the way back to Earth and then step forward to prep medical teams for an oncoming battle,” Richard fired back.

“What about Major Lorne? He has the gene, and he’s a pilot.”

“And no experience using a control chair. I need him to work with Dr. Sheppard anyway.” Richard sighed. “Besides, according to _my_ records, Dr. McNeil has a higher Chair Interface Aptitude score than either Dr. Beckett or Major Lorne. He could operate the Ancient weapons platform, could he not? I know he has some experience with the Control Chair here, if only to initialize it during research diagnostics.”

“Who?” Carter asked.

“Dr. Jonathan McNeil. He’s an aerospace engineer. Fast-tracked through Berkeley. Former foster child. Prodigy. Genius. Expert at integrating Earth and Ancient tech.”

“He’s not on my list. General O’Neill specifically said -”

“General O’Neill is not the commander of Atlantis.”

“He’s the Head of Homeworld Security,” Carter snapped. “Give me Sheppard.”

Richard took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. “Colonel -”

“If Atlantis doesn’t get to Earth on time, we need someone who has actual combat experience in a control chair, and that’s Sheppard,” Carter said, and then she trailed off. There was a pause, but then she spoke again. “I’m sorry, did you say Jonathan McNeil?”

“Yes, Dr. Jonathan McNeil. He came on the most recent wave of expedition recruits,” Richard said. “It’s no surprise he wasn’t on your list. He has no previous military affiliation, so he wouldn’t have been tested for the gene in the initial sweeps.”

“And you said he was a genius? A prodigy who’d grown up in foster care?”

Richard frowned, puzzled by Carter’s sudden curiosity in a time of crisis, but he pulled up McNeil’s personnel file on his datapad. “Yes. He was emancipated when he was fifteen, finished high school at sixteen, and entered university at Berkeley. Fast-tracked through his engineering courses and entered the doctoral program early, received his bachelor’s and doctorate at the same time. Graeme Peel, our contact at Cal Tech, noticed him at an engineering conference and sent him our way. Why?”

“I’ve got his file in front of me. Jonathan Daniel McNeil. Impossible,” Carter breathed. “Yes. Keep Sheppard. Send McNeil through.”

Richard was confused about her sudden turnaround, but if she thought she could justify this substitution to O’Neill, he wasn’t going to argue, because he needed Sheppard to fly the city. He asked Chuck to radio McNeil and tell him to report to the gate room with a bag packed.

McNeil and O’Neill. How quaint.

McNeil reported to the gate room much quicker than Richard expected.

“Sir,” he said, with that wry edge to his tone.

“That was fast.”

“My go bag is always packed, sir. What can I do for you?”

“We’re sending you back to Earth in advance of Atlantis,” Richard said. “Colonel Carter wants you on hand to operate the Ancient Weapons platform in Antarctica in advance of Atlantis’s arrival just in case.”

“Colonel Carter?” McNeil raised his eyebrows.

“She wanted Sheppard originally, but he’s going to fly Atlantis to Earth, and she agreed to you as a replacement.”

Something unreadable crossed McNeil’s face. “I see. When am I departing?”

“Now. Chuck, dial Earth.”

“Yes, sir.”

The event horizon stabilized, and Chuck radioed through, informed Midway to let McNeil bypass quarantine and go straight through to Earth.

“Godspeed, son,” Richard said.

“Thanks, sir. Although I prefer the term ‘good hunting’.” McNeil stepped through the gate before Richard could form a reply.

Several seconds later, Walter from the SGC informed Chuck that McNeil had arrived safely, and they could shut down the gate.

Richard hoped McNeil would be good enough to defend Earth. More than that, he hoped McNeil’s services wouldn’t be needed, that Atlantis was still the weapon the Ancients had designed it to be.

*

Major Paul Davis stepped into the SGC Operations center, where dozens of men and women were hunched in front of computer monitors, scanning data and radar inputs and typing rapidly. He saluted Colonel Carter, who saluted back.

“So, where’s Dr. Sheppard?”

Carter nodded at the boy standing beside the bank of computers. “Mr. Woolsey sent us Dr. McNeil instead.” There was a significant lift to her eyebrows that Paul didn’t quite understand.

McNeil looked barely twenty. He was still wearing his Atlantis scientist uniform and was carrying a small overnight bag.

“General O’Neill specifically ordered John Sheppard -”

Carter handed Paul a file. “Read this first, Major.”

Paul flipped it open. He saw the words _O’Neill, Jonathan J_ and _McNeil, Jonathan D_ and _Asgard_ and _clone_ and raised his eyebrows. He lifted his head, studied the boy anew, and yes, he could see it, how in several decades the boy would look just like the Jack O’Neill of legend. If the boy was a perfect genetic clone of Jack O’Neill, then he had the ATA gene in spades, just like John Sheppard. It made sense that the SGC had kept him close.

The boy remained unruffled under Paul’s scrutiny. It was disconcerting, looking into the boy’s face and seeing someone so familiar, and yet having the sense that the boy thought of him as a total stranger.

“Keep reading, Major,” Carter said.

Paul scanned further, and...oh. The clone had all of Jack O’Neill’s memories through 2004, so he had experience using the Ancient Weapons platform. Of course, the fact that Dr. Jonathan D. McNeil was a clone of Lieutenant General Jack O’Neill had to remain classified, even within the halls of the SGC. Paul closed the file, smiled at Clone Jack. “What’s the plan, sir?”

The boy dipped his chin at Carter and said deferentially, “Ma’am?”

Carter looked a little unsettled, but she said, “The Wraith hive dropped out of hyperspace right before you arrived and established orbit around the moon. Now it’s just waiting.”

“It was further ahead with its ZPM upgrades than we initially thought,” the boy said, and Paul was thrown, because he’d worked with O’Neill enough over the years to know his fidgety tendencies, his sarcasm and odd humor. This quiet deference was...uncanny. Had the Asgard damaged the boy beyond the mere fact of sending him into the universe as a teenager? “It’s probably waiting to finish its upgrades before it launches its attack.”

“We need to get you to the chair at Area 51 immediately,” Carter said to him. She glanced at Paul, who nodded. Those were the instructions from the top. From General O’Neill himself. Did he know that Atlantis hadn’t sent Sheppard?

“Do we have F-302’s, ma’am?”

“There’s an entire squadron on standby,” Paul said, “but they were made for fighter intercept, not launching a full attack on a hive.”

The boy darted a glance at Carter. “If we outfitted the F-302’s with nukes, ma’am?”

Paul raised his eyebrows. “It could be done. It’d take some work.”

The boy held out a datapad. “I worked on some schematics a while back.”

Carter accepted it, hesitant. As she scanned the diagrams, her eyebrows climbed higher and higher on her forehead. “You did this?”

“I’m an aerospace engineer, ma’am,” the boy said. “My specialty is in Earth-Ancient tech integration, but for my...audition for the SGC, as it were, I started with Goa’uld tech. I’ve been trying to work the drones into the F-302’s, but we haven’t come up with a workaround for the ATA gene yet.”

Carter swallowed hard. “Yes. Excellent. This should work.” She handed the datapad back to the boy. “If you could email that to Dr. Lee, we’ll get the engineers and mechanics on it immediately.”

The boy nodded and began typing rapidly one-handed, like he did it all the time. Paul had always known Jack O’Neill was smarter than he let on, but this boy in front of him was quite thoroughly a scientist. Could he handle the combat?

“I can lead the 302’s,” Carter said. “None of those pilots have ever been in combat with alien fighters. I’ve at least fought the Goa’uld.”

Paul shook his head. “No. We need you in command here. Send McNeil.”

Several people nearby lifted their heads, surprised.

Carter shot Paul a warning look, shook her head. “No. We can’t -”

“You’ve fought the Wraith before, haven’t you, McNeil?”

“Not in aerial combat, sir.”

“But you know their tactics, how they think in battle.”

“Yes.”

“And you’ve piloted a puddle-jumper.”

“Yes.”

“No,” Carter broke in. “We need him for the Chair.”

“With all due respect, ma’am,” the boy said quietly, “I am fully capable of doing what Major Davis is asking.”

“And if you fail to destroy the hive and die? Who will operate the Ancient Weapons Platform then?” Carter demanded.

“I won’t fail,” the boy said.

“This is Earth we’re talking about. Not just Earth, but our entire galaxy.” Carter moved toward him, gaze fixed on him.

“I understand that.”

“If Earth falls, all our allies fall, and -”

“I know that. I will ensure that hive ship is destroyed before it has the chance to attack Earth.”

“But -”

“When have I ever failed?”

“You can’t just -”

“Carter!”

“Jack!” she snapped, then came up short, eyes wide, like she’d cussed in front of a nun.

“Jonathan,” he reminded her gently.

All of the minions at the computer stations were watching with wide eyes.

“I’m not just a broken carbon copy,” the boy - young man - said. “I’m an adult and a professional. I put my neck on the line for multiple galaxies on a daily basis. I have the skills necessary to do this job. _Let me do my job._ ”

Carter looked at Paul, who gazed right back at her.

“Do you know something I don’t?” he asked in a low voice. “Any reason, besides sentimentality, why we shouldn’t utilize our best available asset?”

Carter stared at McNeil for a long moment. Then she said, “Someone find him a flight suit. Preferably one that fits.”

“I won’t finish filling out till my late twenties,” McNeil said. “Absent giving me a women’s flight suit, everything you have will be too big across the shoulders.”

Paul couldn’t decide if it was fitting or unfair, that someone had found one of O’Neill’s old flight suits. It was the perfect length but it was too big across the shoulders.

“Godspeed,” Paul said, handing McNeil his flight helmet. Everyone else in the F-302 hangar was pretending to be busy helping the other pilots gear up, but instead they were staring at the veritable child who’d accompanied Carter and Paul and displaced the squadron leader.

Carter patted him on the shoulder tentatively and said, “Good hunting, sir.”

“It’s doctor, actually,” McNeil said, and then he climbed into the cockpit.

“Who the hell is that?” one of the other pilots asked.

“That,” Paul said, “is the closest you will ever get to flying alongside the legendary Jack O’Neill.”

The pilot squinted at McNeil as he went through his pre-flight check. “What, is that his son?”

Carter said, “You have no idea how right and wrong you are.”


End file.
